


Entertain My Faith

by story_monger



Series: You're The Only North Star (Platonic VLD Week) [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Arguing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gen, Team Dynamics, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 00:10:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10058321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/story_monger/pseuds/story_monger
Summary: When Hunk disobeys one of Shiro's orders, he can't quite bring himself to regret it. Arguments ensue.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Platonic VLD Week
> 
> Day 1 (Feb. 26): Sunlight / Moonlight  
> Day 2 (Feb. 27): Quiet / Chaos  
> Day 3 (Feb. 28): Lions / Bonding  
> Day 4 (Mar. 1): Enemies / Family  
>  **Day 5 (Mar. 2): Got your back / Don’t let go**  
>  Day 6 (Mar. 3): Injury / Healing  
> Day 7 (Mar. 4): Free Day / AU

Here’s the thing. Most of the time, Hunk completely trusted Shiro. Absolutely. The man practically radiated leadership. Within five minutes of encountering him, most people, human or otherwise, _wanted_ to listen to him. Even Allura, someone who’d been raised to lead an entire nation, was always ready to hear Shiro’s opinion before she made an ultimate decision.

So yes, Shiro’s leadership skills came through something like 90 percent of the time. And within that 90 percent, Hunk was perfectly willing to put his life in Shiro’s hands and do whatever improbable, dangerous, scary thing Shiro asked of them.

It was that other 10 percent though. That was where the issues came in.

***

After the battle, the five of them stumbled their way down the hall leading to the bridge. They all smelled faintly of ozone and scorched metal. Hunk never liked that smell. It lingered in his mouth and hair for days afterwards, no matter how many showers he took. Lance swore that using the fruitiest, strongest smelling soaps made the smell more bearable, but Hunk was of the opinion that mixing the odors was much more nauseating.

Shiro was in the lead, his shoulders stiff and his back ramrod straight. Keith was right behind him, and every few seconds he glanced back with an expression that was a mixture between wary and nervous. Pidge and Lance were crowded together in front of Hunk, like they were trying to bodily shield Hunk from the way Shiro’s jaw was visibly ticking. And Hunk took up the rear. He was not exactly dragging his feet, but he wasn’t hurrying either. All five of them were utterly silent. It wasn’t even the weary, comradely silence they sometimes fell into after a hard battle. This silence had weight. It had _teeth_.

Another wash of pain rippled across the back of Hunk’s head, and he refrained from wincing. He’d been thrown around pretty badly, and while he didn’t quite think he was concussed, he was willing to bet that there was going to be a good-sized lump tomorrow.

Pidge glanced back for the third time in a minute, her eyebrows still drawn together with worry. Hunk tried shooting her a smile. Pidge managed a grimace in return.

Finally, and far too quickly, they emerged into the bridge where Coran and Allura were waiting. Hunk saw Allura take in Shiro’s expression, and her brow furrowed ever so slightly. Coran, still concentrating on the control board, spoke in a cheerful voice.

“That seems to have done it,” he said. “That last Galra battleship managed to slip away, but all other ships are neutralized. Eliminating this communication tower should scramble their operations for a good while. If we’re lucky, we can use that confusion to liberate some of the major planets and moons in the area. What do you think—“ Coran cut himself off when he turned around and registered the state of the five paladins.

“Coran,” Shiro said, and it was the first time Hunk had heard him speak since the battle. His voice was rasping; he’d been yelling a lot. “Can we get to the infirmary first? There’s some injuries we should probably tend to first.”

“Of course,” Coran said, nodding.

“Thanks.” Shiro turned to the others. “Hunk.” Hunk had to physical restrain himself from flinching. “Get something for your head. We don’t want that swelling.”

“Yeah,” Hunk said. He wished his voice didn’t come out so thin.

“And Keith, make sure that wrist isn’t sprained. Lance, Pidge. Help them out.”

The four of them hurried back down the hall. Hunk could hear Allura’s voice, probably asking Shiro what had happened. Hunk wondered what Shiro was going to tell her. He wondered if Shiro would use the word, ‘insubordination.’

Another surge of pain from the back of his head, and this time Hunk wasn’t quick enough to suppress the groan. Lance’s hand was immediately on his shoulder. “Okay, buddy?”

“No,” Hunk laughed.

Lance hesitated. “Yeah, fair. I mean physically, though.”

“That part’s manageable. I just need an ice pack or something.”

Lance nodded, but his hand didn’t pull away from Hunk’s shoulder. Keith and Pidge weren’t even trying to hide the fact that they were watching Hunk closely too.

“Okay, guys,” Hunk stopped walking. The others followed suite immediately. “Can we not—I screwed up, and I’m sorry, and—“ He groaned again and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can you not stare at me like that?”

“Woah, Hunk,” Pidge said. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“We’re not _judging_ you,” Lance added. “We’re worried about you.”

“Well, you know, that part’s fair,” Hunk said irritably, dropping his hand. “Since I’m probably going to be torn a new one.” He exhaled hard. “ _Shit_.”

“Shiro isn’t like that.” Hunk lifted his head to find Keith watching him with downright concern on his face. “He’s not like the people at the Garrison.”

“You sure?” Hunk asked. “Because he sounded pretty pissed over the comms.” He shut his eyes abruptly. He needed to calm down. Sure, his brain was practically screaming with sheer nerves and almost-panic, but that didn’t mean he needed to be an ass to his teammates. They didn’t deserve it.

“Look,” Lance said. “It was in the middle of battle. Adrenaline was high. Shiro just needs to calm down, that’s all.” He tugged at Hunk’s shoulder. “And in the meantime, you need something for your head.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Hunk started moving again, and the others followed. At least this time, they didn’t seem to be staring at him like he was on his way to the electric chair. And Hunk was definitely exaggerating with that comparison because Keith was right: Shiro wasn’t like that. Hunk knew this.

Except then Hunk’s mind replayed the events of the battle in his mind’s eye, as if he needed to be reminded. He and Shiro had been in a bad place. Several large battleships had cornered the Black and Yellow Lions, and the other three had been too far away and too occupied to offer proper assistance. Hunk could still feel the cold terror of staring down the barrel of one of the massive ion cannons and watching the innards start to glow and knowing that it was going to hit one of them. Shiro had been in front of Hunk in that moment, as if he planned on taking the brunt of the blast. Except Hunk had known intrinsically that that was a bad idea. Armor was the thing. The Yellow Lion was all about armor.

“Shiro!” Hunk had yelled into the comms system. “Get back! Let me and Yellow take it!”

“Negative,” Shiro had said.

“But there’s less of a chance—“

“Hunk, I’m giving you a direct order to stay where you are.” In retrospect, Hunk supposed that the tone was what did it. That firm flat tone, like Shiro was confident that being the martyr was his damn job, even when it was a demonstrably bad idea. Hunk hadn’t even thought properly. He’d yanked at the controls and sent Yellow surging forward just as the ion cannon had gone off. It hit Yellow right in the flank, and everything had _seized_. Hunk didn’t recall much from that handful of minutes, but when he’d come to, his head had been throbbing and the cockpit had been flickering dangerously. It had taken a few seconds to register the voice coming over the comms.

“Me and Pidge got it,” Lance was saying. “Ion cannon is neutralized.”

“Hunk! _Hunk_! I said to answer me!”

“I—“ Hunk had winced, swallowed hard. “Here.”

Shiro’s rough exhale had rattled over the comms system. “Is Yellow functional?”

“Um.” Hunk had reached out, and Yellow had brushed him back with affirmation. “Yeah, we’re good.”

“Don’t. Ever. Do that again.” Shiro’s voice had been all barely suppressed fury, and it had made something cold bloom in Hunk’s chest. He was used to long-suffering Shiro, used to frustrated and annoyed Shiro. And if he’d ever heard furious Shiro before, it was always directed at enemies, at people who threatened their team. Hunk had never had the fury directed toward him.

In that moment, Hunk had two simultaneous thoughts. One, that he’d majorly screwed up. Two, that he would do it again in a heartbeat. Which was a frustrating position to be in, to be honest.

Hunk pulled himself out of his own head when the four of them entered the infirmary. Pidge accompanied Keith to the Altean version of an x-ray machine and helped him scan his wrist to see what its deal was. Lance stuck with Hunk, leading him to the cabinet stocked with various basic first aid supplies. Lance pushed Hunk into a chair and pulled out a packet of cold packs. He tore one off, shook it a few times to get it started, then handed it over. Hunk took the pack, already chilled to the touch, and gingerly placed it on the back of his head. Lance rummaged through the cabinet a second time until he found a small jar of ointment that always did wonders for taking care of bruises.

“Wanna take off the armor?” Lance asked, and Hunk nodded. The infirmary was silent for the next few minutes as Lance worked the ointment into the worst of Hunk’s bruises. Keith and Pidge joined them shortly. Keith’s wrist seemed to not be sprained, merely overextended, so he pulled on one of the stiff cloth braces they kept on hand. When Lance was finished with Hunk, he took off his own armor and attended to his own scrapes and bruises before handing the jar off to Pidge. This had become almost a ritual among them. After a battle, when the injuries weren’t bad enough to merit the healing pods, they still gathered in here to clean up and heal what they could. They had quickly found out that letting small injuries build up over several battles could have serious consequences. Much better to take care of everything directly after the fact.

Shiro arrived just as Keith was finishing up with the ointment. The mood in the room immediately thickened. Lance and Keith, who had been having one of their almost reflexive arguments about who had taken out how many drones, fell silent. Shiro looked around at the four of them. His whole body was still stiff; his expression was tight. Hunk’s heart sank.

“Everything okay?” Shiro asked.

“Wrist is overextended,” Keith reported, lifting his arm so Shiro could see the brace. “Should be fine if I’m easy on it for the next few days.”

“Good.” Shiro glanced to Hunk. “And the head?”

“Fine,” Hunk said. When it became clear that he wasn’t going to offer anything else, Shiro nodded and looked away.

“Everyone take a shower and get some rest,” he said. “We’ll have training sometime around midday tomorrow, but I don’t think it’ll be anything too intense.” And with that, he did a 180 and exited the infirmary.

No one moved until Shiro’s footsteps had faded completely. Pidge exhaled gustily.

“Yeah, he’s mad,” she said. “Keith? You have much experience with this?”

“A bit,” Keith said slowly. He gave Hunk an apologetic expression. “Although, whenever I pissed him off at the Garrison, I just avoided him for a week or so.”

“Oh, super,” Hunk said in a flat voice. “Guess I’ll just skip out on training. And battles. And all the other stuff I’m supposed to be doing. For a week.” He paused. “We don’t even _have_ weeks out here.”

Keith winced. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s.” Hunk scrubbed his face, trying and failing to suppress the sheer irritation. “I’m not even in the wrong here.” He looked around at them. “Am I? You get why I took the hit, right? I know Shiro told me not to do it, but I’m the one with the armor. I’m the one built to handle that sort of battering. I was doing the smart thing.” The other three gave one another looks like they were trying to figure out among them how to best respond. “Well?” Hunk demanded.

“Look, you’re not wrong,” Lance said slowly.

“It’s just that I—Shiro knows the Black Lion would probably have been able to handle it,” Pidge said. “Maybe he’d have been a little worse off, but he would have been okay.”

“And Shiro doesn’t like people taking the fall for him,” Keith said. “It’s sort of a point for him.”

“It’s a stupid point,” Hunk mumbled, feeling very much like a petulant child. Not that he cared. Shiro was the one being petulant here. “I’m gonna go shower,” Hunk said, abruptly standing. He ignored the way his head spun and made a beeline for the doorway where Shiro had disappeared a few minutes ago. Behind him, he heard absolute silence.

***

By all rights, Hunk should have fallen asleep immediately. He was often exhausted after battles, and he’d been known to almost nod off in post-battle meetings. Right now, though, between the pounding in his head and the simmering irritation, Hunk didn’t stand a chance.

He finally tossed off the blankets with a huff and threw a robe over his pajamas. He left his room and took the familiar path to the castle’s kitchen. Bread, he decided. Bread involved punching things. That felt like a good call right now.

A half hour later, Hunk was mixing his ingredients. He’d managed to find a decent version of flour a few months ago—grinding up seeds into a fine powder was something most civilizations figured out at some point, turned out. And water and salt were easy. Even sugar wasn’t impossible. There was a whole range of sweeteners out there, and Hunk had managed to find a few versions that were close to what he was used to. The real trick was the yeast. Hunk had spent months trying to find a yeast culture that wouldn’t poison everyone and did the job of making the bread rise. Finally, with Coran’s help, he’d started experiments to grow his own yeast cultures in the labs. The first few trials had been a bit disappointing, but Hunk was determined to keep tweaking things until he found the right culture.

It was the right distraction. By the time Hunk set the dough in a bowl to let it rise, his mind felt much quieter. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, and tilted his head back. He tried to focus on his breathing and nothing else.

A shuffle made Hunk snap his eyes open and lift his head. Shiro stared back from the kitchen entryway, eyes wide.

“Sorry,” Shiro said, voice stiff. “I was getting water.”

“Okay,” Hunk said. He didn’t say anything else, didn’t move. He had no idea what the protocol here was. He and Lance had fought before, and they usually made up after Lance draped himself over Hunk and said something ridiculous. Even with Pidge and Keith, Hunk felt like he’d know how to proceed to smooth things over. But this felt different.

Shiro must have been feeling the same thing because he looked about two seconds from bolting. Hunk licked his lips and straightened and said, “Okay, I’m sorry.”

Shiro blinked. “What?”

“You know, sorry? For disobeying orders?” Hunk made a frustrated noise. “C’mon, dude, I’m trying here.”

Shiro eyed Hunk for another moment before stepping properly into the kitchen. Quietly, deliberately, he leaned against the countertop beside Hunk. He glanced at the covered bowl.

“What’re you making?” he asked.

“Bread.” Hunk said. Fine, so Shiro wanted to ramp up to it. He could do that. “Trying it with culture four this time. Hopefully it won’t turn the bread green. Or dry it out so much.”

“I thought it tasted fine,” Shiro said in a low voice.

“You _ate_ it?” Hunk demanded, looking at him askance.

Shiro shrugged. “It was edible, right?”

“Lord.” Hunk shook his head. “Between you, Pidge, and Keith, I can never decide who’s worse. You’ve all got zero culture when it comes to food.”

“Sorry,” Shiro said, his mouth twisted up into a grin.

“No you’re not.”

“I’m not,” Shiro agreed, shrugging easily. “I liked the Garrison cafeteria food, and I won’t apologize.”

“Literally never say that within my hearing again.”

Shiro laughed, a low sound, and Hunk found himself grinning despite himself. The tension between them was easing its way down, somewhere where they could let their shoulders brush against one another and not stiffen because of it.

“So here’s the thing,” Shiro said, looking down at his intertwined hands. “I’m still trying to decide whether you should be apologizing to me or vice versa.” Hunk remained silent. Shiro inhaled sharply and scrubbed his face. “You worry me, Hunk.”

Wait, what? Hunk shifted to look at Shiro properly, eyebrows drawn together. “I _worry_ you?” he asked.

“Yeah, you do.” Shiro looked him in the eye; his expression was almost sad. “Have you noticed how much you’ve been throwing yourself in front of everyone lately?”

Hunk blinked. “I mean…that’s my thing, right? Defense. The cannon, the Yellow Lion’s armor. It’s all based on defense.” He shook his head. “Shiro, literally what else am I supposed to be doing?”

“No, Hunk.” Shiro covered his eyes briefly and made a low, frustrated sound. “That’s my _point_. Don’t tell me you’re only supposed to be bodily throwing yourself in front of everyone. That’s not—you can’t _do_ that.”

“I mean, I don’t do it for shits and giggles,” Hunk shot back. His voice was rising in volume. “I do it because everyone else has jobs to do. And I cover for them so they can do those jobs.” He threw up a hand. “I covered for _you_ because you need to lead, and if you’re knocked out by an ion cannon, you can’t lead anymore. It’s no big deal if I’m knocked out.”

“Except it is a big deal!” Shiro snapped. He stepped away from the counter and faced Hunk, his hands in fists by his side. “We _need_ you, Hunk. If you’d been seriously hurt—“ Shiro brought up a hand. “What if next time, it’s not the Yellow Lion taking the brunt of an attack? What if it’s you? I see you Hunk; you’re constantly taking up the rear, making sure that you’re the first thing between the others and the people who are shooting us.” He scoffed. “Sometimes, I wish you’d be a little more scared again.”

“I am scared!” Hunk yelled. “I’m _always_ scared! But guess what, I can’t do that anymore because that’s how the bad guys win. The team needs defense, and I’m the guy with the defense. Letting myself be scared, letting myself hide behind someone else, that’s a luxury. I don’t have the _choice_ to be scared anymore.”

Shiro’s expression broke. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s the worst part.”

Hunk clapped his mouth shut. He hadn’t been expected that. Shiro looked away briefly, sighing as he ran a hand over his face. Then he sank to a sit, leaning against the cabinets. Hunk followed him after a moment of hesitation. He waited while Shiro looked into his lap, his shoulders rising and falling with deep breathes.

“The worst thing I can imagine,” Shiro said in a low voice, “is you guys having to start thinking like I do.” He lifted his head slightly. “I figure I’m already there, you know? That place where there’s no choice anymore, not if you want to live. And maybe it was stupid, but I hoped I could do that sort of thinking for everyone, and then one day you all could go home mostly intact.” He made a sound that was probably supposed to be a laugh but failed partway through. “Probably too much to ask for.”

Hunk hesitated. “Yeah, probably,” he admitted. “We’re fighting a war. I don’t see how we can avoid it.”

“You’re child soldiers,” Shiro said. And Hunk’s chest _shattered_ with the sheer despair in Shiro’s voice when he said that. Without thinking, Hunk scooted closer and wrapped his hand around the back of Shiro’s neck, bringing their heads close enough together that they could press their foreheads together. Shiro’s breathing was deafening, and this close up, Hunk realized that he was shaking ever so slightly.

“I’m 18,” Hunk murmured into the small, warm space between them. “I’m technically of age.”

“You’re still young,” Shiro replied. “It’s still not fair, not really.”

“Yeah,” Hunk acquiesced. “It’s not.” He sighed. “You’re young too, though. You didn’t deserve this either.” Shiro shrugged. “Don’t you think,” Hunk said carefully. “That after everything you’ve dealt with. That you deserve someone to defend you occasionally? That you shouldn’t be throwing yourself in front of everyone either?”

“I told you, I’m already—“

“So? What, the universe is supposed to keep kicking you while you’re down? That’s bullshit, Shiro. You have to know that.” Shiro didn’t say anything. Hunk slowly started stroking his thumb against the knob of Shiro’s uppermost vertebrae. “I disobeyed your orders because you have a blind spot. You think you’re always the one who’s supposed to be the martyr, and sometimes that leads to you making bad calls. Between the two of us, I was the one better equipped to be slammed with an ion cannon. You know that; I know that. So, I did what I thought was right, and I’m sorry that you’re mad at me about it, but I don’t regret it. At all.”

Shiro’s next inhale was shaky. He pressed his forehead harder against Hunk’s. “I wasn’t mad at you,” he said.

Hunk snorted. “Coulda fooled me.”

“I mean, I was mad. But it was more at myself than anything else. I’m not supposed to let my people get hurt. At the absolute least, a CO is supposed to keep their people safe. And I couldn’t manage that. You got hurt anyway.”

“Shiro,” Hunk started, then trailed off. He exhaled lightly. “You're not the only one out there. I know we all rely on you to have our backs, but you need to realize we have your back, too.” Shiro didn’t reply. “Or how about this. I made a choice. Can you respect that, at least?”

“Probably,” Shiro said, though he didn’t sound all that convinced. Typical, Hunk thought with a tug of fondness. Thoughtfully, Hunk shifted and pulled his forehead from Shiro’s so he could press a kiss to his brow.

“I’ll take that for now,” Hunk said. “We’ll keep working on it.”

Shiro blinked at Hunk. Then his expression collapsed into a helpless grin. “Hang on,” he said. “If I need to work on this, then you do too.”

“I’m still the Yellow Paladin,” Hunk said. “Still the one with the defense.”

“You don’t need to play defense every single time though, do you?” Shiro asked, tilting his head. “Maybe we should try to spread it around a little.”

Hunk shrugged. “Sure. We can work on that.” He stifled a yawn. “Not now though. You wanna watch a movie?”

“What?”

“They’re this incredible technology that involves moving pictures and sound and—“

“You’re a real smartass, you know that Hunk?”

“I’ve been spending too much time with Pidge.” Hunk levered himself to a stand and held out a hand. “So. Wanna?”

Shiro peered up at him. He reached up and accepted Hunk’s hand.

***

The other three found them in the living room within a few minutes of the movie starting, which Hunk found somewhat suspicious but not enough to press them on it.

“Thank the high heavens,” Lance said as he approached the couch where Hunk and Shiro were sitting together. He collapsed against the arm rest and stuck his feet in Hunk’s lap. “I don’t think I could have handled you guys being mad at each other for a whole lot longer. Angry Hunk and angry Shiro are really bad separately. Both at the same time is too much.”

“Oh.” Hunk blinked. “Sorry, I didn’t realize that would bother you guys so much.”

“It was only for one afternoon,” Keith pointed out, settling himself on Shiro’s other side.

“Yeah, still too long,” Lance said, waving a hand. “I mean, Hunk and Shiro are supposed to be the calm, level-headed ones who force everyone else to make up and stuff.”

“Agreed,” Pidge said. She hauled up Lance’s legs and crawled in beside Hunk, letting Lance’s legs land on her lap. She looked at Hunk and Shiro with studied disappointment. “What, you expected me and these two jokers to do that sort of work? We’d screw it up so bad.”

“Huh,” Hunk said. “I should really be charging you guys for my emotional labor, then.” He looked to Shiro. “What do you say? We can split it 60-40.”

“I’m in,” Shiro said. “I’ll put it toward my therapy fund.” His expression stilled, as if he’d been caught doing something wrong.

Keith snorted abruptly. “You’re tired, aren’t you?”

Shiro’s shoulders slumped. “Getting there.”

“Good,” Lance said, shifting to see the screen better. “Because I know of no better soporific than _Citizen Kane_. Is this seriously what you guys watch without our influence?”

“It’s a classic,” Pidge said, just a touch of defensiveness in her voice.

“Just because it doesn’t have a cheesy tagline doesn’t mean it’s not good,” Keith added.

“Oh, look who suddenly has a film degree,” Lance scoffed

Hunk tuned them out when Shiro’s head landed on his shoulder. He glanced over and found Shiro watching him almost hesitantly. Hunk grinned back then scooted closer and rested his cheek against the top of Shiro’s head. Slowly, Shiro let himself sag against Hunk’s side, and Hunk returned the favor.

It was pretty good for a first step.


End file.
